Robert Swindells - Daz 4 Zoe

‘Thanks.’

The half-landing windows were boarded up so the stairway was dark and I kept stepping on squashy things I couldn’t see. There seemed to be four apartments on the first floor, but only one had a door, so maybe the others were unoccupied. On the next floor two apartments had doors. A fierce-sounding dog threw itself against the inside of one just as I was passing.

All of the third-floor apartments had doors. I stopped by one that had the number eleven painted on it, and knocked. Some of the kids had followed me up. They stood on the stairs, watching me through rusty iron rails. I heard footsteps, and a voice, suspicious, called, ‘Yeah?’ I knew that voice.

‘It’s me, Daz. Zoe.’ A bolt scraped, the door flew open and we were in each other’s arms.

We were in a little hallway that had the same cement floor as the landing outside, only cleaner. Not clean, but cleaner. The walls had once been yellow, but damp must’ve got in, and now the paint was curled and blistered and flakes of it lay on the floor. There was a smell like toadstools. Four doors led off this hallway, one in front of me and three on my left. The one straight ahead was open and led to a kitchen. When Daz closed the outer door the only light came from there.

Daz took my hand and led me to the last door on the left. As he opened it he called out, ‘Hey, Mam, look – we got a visitor.’ The forced cheerfulness was transparent and I felt like I was walking into an ogre’s lair.

Scattered across the floor were bits and pieces of matting and threadbare carpet. Apart from these the room contained only an iron stove whose chimney went out through a window, and two chairs, one each side of the stove. The chairs were saggy, colourless armchairs and in one of them sat a woman who might have been made to match. With a son like Daz she couldn’t have been much more than forty-five, but she looked at least seventy. She was wearing a lumpy green cardigan over a black, turtleneck sweater and a long grey skirt with a ragged hem. Her thin legs were bare except for blue ankle socks and her feet were encased in what looked like a man’s broken boots. Grey hair hung in greasy rat-rails to her shoulders. White bony fingers gripped the armrests of her chair and she gazed at her son with lustreless eyes.

‘Visitor? What you on about, our Daz? Who is it?’

‘I’m Zoe, Mrs -.’ I broke off. I didn’t know her name. I’d run away from home to be with someone whose name I didn’t even know.

Daz said, ‘This is Zoe, Mam. She’s a – she’s from Silverdale. She’ll be staying here awhile.’

‘Staying?’ The woman leaned forward. ‘A Subby lass, staying here? Have you gone barmy, lad? D’you want to get us both topped? How’d she get out of Silverdale anyway?’

‘Under a trashtruck,’ I said. ‘I rode out under a trash truck.’

‘Aye, and what you done, that’s what I’d like to know. What they want you for in Silverdale, eh?’

‘Nothing. I haven’t done anything, Mrs-. I ran away to be with Daz.’

‘Daz? What’s our Daz got to do with you?’ She looked at her son.

‘Only one reason Subbies run. They done something, see? DS wants ’em. She stays here, place’ll be crawling with lornorders ‘fore you can turn round. Get her out of here, son. Get rid of her.’

Daz looked from me to her. ‘I can’t, Mam. Where’s she supposed to go – out on the street? Anyway, I love her.’

‘Love?’ The woman laughed wheezily. ‘You telling me you fell for a Subby girl after what they did to our Del? Forgot, did you?’

He shook his head. ‘No, Mam. I didn’t forget. I’ve never forgotten our Del, have I? Wanted to join Dred and get ’em back, only you weren’t that keen, were you?’

‘Huh! Wouldn’t have you now, though, would they? Subby-lover they’d call you, and they’d be right. Anyway she can’t stay here. I want no raids on this house, we’ve trouble enough.’

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking this old lady’s hospitality stinks, but she was right. They execute Chippies who harbour fugitives or kidnap people, and I’d come here thoughtlessly, expecting to be taken in. I realised now what I’d done, and if there’d been anywhere else for me to go – anywhere at all – I’d have walked out, but there wasn’t. Death was waiting outside, and so I had to stand there while Daz and his mother fought over me.

In the end they compromised. The old lady said that since it was dark now I’d better stay till morning. Daz winked at me. I guess he thought his mother would relent tomorrow and everything would be fine. I wasn’t so sure.

With that and missing my family, I’d have spent a lousy night if they’d put me in a feather bed. A damp mattress on the floor and a coat to cover me left me no chance. My feet were like chilled mutton and I think I cried all night.

Barraclough, their name is. The old lady told me at breakfast. She’s different in the mornings because that’s when she pops her pill. She’s got something Chippies call the dulleye, which I guess is depression, and she’s on pills for it.

Breakfast was at 8 a.m. It was hot, watery coffee and hard bread. Daz and his mother dunked their bread in the coffee so I did too. Afterwards Daz told me the bread was a special treat because I was there – usually they just have the coffee.

They don’t talk over breakfast, the Barracloughs. I sat there trying to eat wet bread without slurping, saying Darren Barraclough over and over in my head. Darren Barraclough. I like it. I think it has a ring to it. I needed to find things I liked that morning.

They don’t talk over breakfast, but we talked straight after. The old lady’s pill saved me from having to leave right away but it didn’t blunt her sense of reality. She started asking me questions. Did my parents know anything about Daz. What did I say to them when I left the house. Had I left a note. What time yesterday would they have started to worry. When would they have known I was definitely missing. What would they do then. Had I relatives or friends in Silverdale I might be with. In other suburbs. Would they get the police in right away. What did I think they’d think had happened to me.

I did my best to answer. She and Daz knew the authorities would be looking for me, and that sooner or later they’d widen their search to include the city. I said, ‘The city’s a big place to find one person in. Surely if I stay indoors till they get tired looking it’ll be okay?’

Daz shook his head. ‘You were seen, Zoe, yesterday. The kids you told me about, and them downstairs. Others. You were dirty from the dump but even the little kids had you sussed. Lornorders pay for information and there’s a lot of hungry people out there. Soon as the law comes sniffing around, someone’ll finger you.’

Then what can we do, Daz? What do I do? I don’t want to bring the police down on you, but I don’t know any place outside of Silverdale other than this.’

‘I know. Listen. I have to go out for a while. See a guy.’ He stood, pulling on his jacket. ‘I’ve got an idea but I don’t know if I can swing it. You stay here with Mam and don’t even stick your nose outside.’ He turned in the doorway, grinning. ‘And if you hear a fan, stay away from the window.’

Zoe wiv me now and evryfing shoud be grate but is not. i watch her in the partmen. she lucking at fings and i can see she dont lykem. any ovver Subby i be glad, fink ah well now you see how it is but not wiv Zoe. i wish ther coud be somfing Zoe lyke but we got noffing. i always new that but it never feal so bad lyke now. i fink if Subbys’d let her back she go and i never see her again. i howld her hand and she make a littel smile but not happy.